


Sisters of Atom

by KitSolent



Category: Fallout 4, Tegan and Sara (Band)
Genre: Crossover, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitSolent/pseuds/KitSolent
Summary: *old timey radio voice* Indie pop stars Tegan and Sara Quin have agreed to headline a promotional concert for the opening of VaultTec's newest vault, Vault 69. Little do they know that it's all a ruse, and the Vault's newly appointed Overseer plans to kidnap our charming heroines for their dastardly experiments! Will the Quin Twins prevail? Find out next week, onSisters of Atom. *theme music*





	1. Red Rocket Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **October 22nd, 2077**

**Red Rocket Station, Calgary, Alberta, Canada.**

The tour bus pulled in to the coolant filling station and powered down its reactor. A cheery, pre-recorded voice greeted them over a crackly tannoy. "Welcome to Red Rocket! Please remain inside your vehicle during coolant re-fill." The station's robot arm swung into position, circling around the bus until it found the coolant filler cap.

As soon as the connection was made, the sliding door at the front of the bus opened and a steady stream of people stepped out and headed across the forecourt to the convenience store.

They had driven pretty much non-stop from Vancouver, where their tour was originally supposed to end. Just before the encore, they had got a call from a Vault-Tec representative, saying that they had lost their headliner for the grand opening concert of a Vault in Calgary, and were willing to pay vast sums of money if Tegan and Sara could step in. They thought it was a joke, but then after the show, a man in a tan suit approached them, with a signed check for more money than they had made across the whole tour.

It had taken them a day and a half to get to Calgary, owing to the poor condition of the roads and frequent military checkpoints around the Alaskan Oil Pipeline. Due to growing international tensions and a second energy crisis, Canada had been invaded, occupied and annexed by the US, to secure resources for their war against China. Despite technically being part of the US, Canada had no access to the world's last known supply of oil, so empty gasoline-fueled cars littered the streets, and reactor coolant prices were through-the-roof due to the increased demand.

Despite living in what sounded like the prologue in a post-apocalyptic dystopian fiction novel, most people had simply adjusted under these pressures, and continued adjusting as they increased, further and further, until 'running out of coolant on the freeway and being killed and eaten by scavengers' was a day-to-day anxiety like 'missing the bus'. In other words, most humans had gone just a tiny, _tiny_ bit insane, in order to remain their normal selves in these circumstances.

"I hope the bathrooms here are cleaner than the last place." Tegan mused on her way to the station's store.

"I'll let you know," Sara replied, inching past Tegan through the store entrance and making a break for the single occupancy bathroom.

"Hey!" Tegan shouted from the doorway. "Fucking bitch, you knew I needed to go."

"Language, please!" boomed a voice from close behind.

Tegan cried out in alarm and jolted around, and then realised it was just a Mr. Handy robot. Its tiny jet engine whined softly as it floated in the air in front of her.

"Apologies, madam. I did not mean to scare you. Would you like to purchase any refreshments?"

Tegan thought the Protectrons were cute, with their big dome heads and shuffly walk, but the Mr. Handys (Handies?) always gave her the creeps. It was the eyes. And the articulated legs. And the floating. All of it, really. They were essentially giant floating metal spiders, and she didn't understand why no one else found that concept deeply unnerving.

"No thank you," Tegan answered politely, "We just need to use your restroom." 'We' consisted of Tegan, Tegan and Sara's backing band trio, and their tour manager slash driver, who were by now all stood behind Tegan in the doorway, waiting to come in.

"Certainly. The bathroom facilities are just down there," The Mr. Handy pointed to the door Sara had just locked. "Oh! They seem to be engaged..."

"Yes, thank you." Tegan replied, "We'll wait."

Ten minutes and twenty thousand dollars' worth of coolant later, the tour bus was back on the move. Destination: _Vault 69_.


	2. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Out of all the numbers of all the Vaults, it had to be Vault  _69_. Is it even a real Vault, or just some elaborate prank?" Tegan asked from the end of the C-shaped couch in the middle of the bus. "Shit, what if... It's a gay speakeasy,  _pretending_  to be a Vault as a front? That'd be so cool. I mean, illegal, punishable by death and/or conscription, but still..." she trailed off.

"I hope you're not opening with that." Sara replied sarcastically, while she fiddled with the temperamental on-board coffee machine. "Once we get in there and sign the usual papers, you'll be _contractually obliged_ not to say anything remotely negative about dear old Vault-Tec."

"I know, that's why I'm getting it all out of the way now. Vault 69, guys?" Tegan turned to face the other two-thirds of the couch, where the rest of their tour family was sitting.

"My favourite number, to be honest." Their tour manager, Jeremy, said with a wink.

"Mine too," Tegan laughed, leaning over for a high-five. "What about you, Sara?"

"Nope. Not going there. Not with you." Sara brought her coffee over and pushed Tegan's feet off the end of the couch so she could sit down. "I do wonder if there's a Vault 420, though."

Tegan started, "There's gotta be a Vault 19 some-"

"-Call me." Sara interjected.

"-where..." Tegan trailed off. "Quick on the draw, there, Sara. Did the machine put some _Jet_ in your coffee this time?" 'Jet' being the illegal drug that appears to momentarily slow down time for the user.

Sara sighed, moving her mug in little circles absentmindedly. "It would not surprise me. I just asked it for an americano, it gave me a latte, and I'm pretty sure it's decaf."

"Oh, my-gosh!" Tegan gave her best Valley girl accent, throwing her hand to her chest in mock horror."

"Okay, I'm sorry I said anything, forget it!" Sara tried to interject, but Tegan kept going.

"I just can't believe the machine gave me decaf -  _decaf_!"

"Tegan? Stop. Stop now."

Tegan switched back to her normal voice and continued, "Our planet is dying, our home country doesn't exist any more, there's a man-made superplague killing millions of people in the South..." She carried on, as Sara put her coffee down and lunged at her, "But Sara, poor Sara, can't get the right coffee on our fusion-powered tour bus!"

"Ughhh!"


	3. Walking the Robot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, I've had a lot of college work to do. The US/Canadian president in this story is a self-centred billionaire called Donald Drumpf, who bears absolutely no relation to any persons, living or dead.

It was mid-afternoon, and Tegan and Sara (the band, but also the people) had arrived at the perimeter gates of Vault 69. Armed security guards had boarded their bus and collected everyone's ID cards, but it had been half an hour now, and nobody had returned to let them through. There was a car-sized Sentry Bot squatting in front of the gate, keeping them from just driving in. It scanned their bus every few minutes, as if it, too, was wondering why they hadn't moved along yet.

When the wall of red light from the Sentry Bot washed over the interior of their bus for the tenth time, Sara got up and went to the closet at the front. "I'm going out to stretch my legs." She said, pulling her jacket off the hook.

"Yeah, I'll come too." Tegan got up and made for her own jacket. As she was putting it on she turned to Sara and grinned. "How about we ask _Rob_ if he wants to tag along?"

"How about no." Sara replied. "He goes at like two miles an hour."

"But he's been in his closet all day."

"He's a robot, not a dog! He doesn't need to go out for walks."

"Do. You. Need. A. **Security**. Esc _ooort_?" Called a grating, synthetic voice from inside the adjacent closet. Sara sighed in defeat.

"Aww, he heard us!" Tegan cooed. "You can come too, Rob." She addressed Rob's closet door before opening it for him (he pushed the last one off its hinges in his eagerness to get out).

"Initiating. **Bodyguard**. Protocols." Rob stepped out of his charging station and headed for the outside door. Sara leant in quickly before he tried to bash that door down, too.

They stepped out into the brisk October air. Decades ago, this would have been the start of Alberta's snow season, but the last stages of the energy crisis had warmed the whole planet by several degrees, and as a result it was still 'jacket weather'.

They walked along the Vault's perimeter fence, with Rob shuffling along behind them.

"I think we should sign up for the Vault in Vancouver." Tegan said. "No one knows what'll happen when the oil runs out completely. Especially with that idiot in charge."

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a bunker." Sara said.

"Well, it won't be for the rest of our lives, just a year or so, until the dust settles."

"And everyone we know has died."

"Sara..."

"I don't want to go through that, Tegan. I don't want to be here after everyone else has gone. I mean, I like being alone, but never  _that_ alone."

"You won't be alone. I'll be with you."

Sara looked down at the ground instead of answering. How could she tell Tegan without hurting her that no single person, not even her twin sister, could replace all her friends and family and everyone she'd ever known?

Sara needn't have worried. Even without her saying anything at all, Tegan understood. They continued on in silence after that. After a while they came upon a billboard advertising the grand opening of Vault 69. Pasted over the image of the original artist (the one who couldn't make it) was a ten foot high photo of the twins sharing a large grey coat, with ' _Indie rock stars Tegan and Sara_ ' written in gold letters. It was still possible to see part of the original artist's name underneath. 'Just... ...ber'.

"That's weird." Sara said, looking up at the poster.

"What? You think we weren't the _immediate_ second choice after 'Just-ber' cancelled?"

"No. I mean, that's super weird, too, but... The poster's faded. We only got the call like, two days ago, but even our bit of the poster looks like it's been up here for weeks."

"Maybe they had a dust storm, like in LA? Remember, after the last tour, when you went home and all the paint had been blasted off the outside of your house?"

"And a mailbox had been blown through the living room window, so all the inside was full of shitty polluted dust? I'd almost forgoten, thank you for bringing that up, _Tegan_."

Tegan let out a loud laugh. "You called me up like " _Okay, you win, I'm moving to Vancouver with you_." - It only took half your house being destroyed!"

 "Okay! Okay. Let's move on, okay? How about: how the hell did we get picked to stand in for Just-"

"Incoming  **message**. Incoming  **message**." Rob startled them both. Inside the glass dome of his head, a blue light was flashing.

"Go ahead, Rob." Tegan said.

" **Message** :" Rob played the recorded message out for them. It was Jeremy's voice that spoke. "Hey, head back to the bus, we've got our clearance, and we're out of coffee." The recording ended. " **Message** ends."

Tegan thanked Rob for performing the task, then turned to Sara and grinned. "Last one to the bus?"


	4. Sheets (of yellow paper)

Tegan, Sara, their backing band, Jeremy, and Rob the robot were escorted into Vault 69 by Vault-tec security guards. They stepped through the giant, gear-shaped doorway into a cavernous room with a single metal walkway in the middle. They passed a row of decontamination rigs that looked similar to security gates at an airport, and came to a halt in front of a lab-coated woman with a clipboard.

"Welcome to Vault 69!" She said, with a hint of a smirk that let them know she was in on the joke. She sounded British. Estuary, even. Tegan wondered what  _her_  story was. "I'm Doctor Jean Simmons - that's J-E-A-N. I work for the Overseer." She gestured to the soldiers behind them. "Did these gentlemen tell you they'll be bringing your equipment down for you?"

"Oh, thanks, but we usually unload everything ourselves." Tegan took charge of their little group, glancing at the rough-and-ready-looking security guards standing around them. "Some of our equipment is quite... Delicate."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible in the time that we have." At this, the guards all turned and went back out to unload the bus. "Don't worry, they're ex-military. They're used to shifting live ordinance and medical supplies around in the middle of battle, I'm sure they can handle a couple of guitars." Simmons took a step back to survey the whole group. "If you could all follow me, please, I have some forms for you to fill in."

 ---

"God, how many of these forms are there?" Tegan whispered across the desk to Sara. They had each been given a stack of forms to fill in in quintuplicate, all printed on slightly different shades of yellow paper. Tegan held a lemon-coloured form and a canary-coloured form up to show Sara. "'Health Form' and 'Liability Waiver', these I understand the need for, but 'Last Will and Testament'?"

"Wait till you get to the 'Organ Donation Agreement'."

" _What?_ This is ridiculous. We came here to play a show, not sign our lives away. This is an intimidation tactic. They're scared the  _fill-ins_  are gonna fuck up their opening night."

"Listen," Sara leant over the desk so she didn't have to raise her voice. "I don't like doing these corporate events any more than you do, but you have to admit it could be worse." She urged. "I mean, we could be doing a gig for a weapons manufacturer right now. But Vault-Tec make fallout shelters. They're trying to keep everyone safe."

"For a fee." Tegan countered.

"Which is the same as health insurance."

"Which is also bullshit, as you well know." Tegan sighed. She turned and called out to their lab-coated chaperone, "Doctor Simmons, do we  _have_  to fill out all these forms before we can play the show? Aren't these just gonna get thrown away when we leave?"

Dr. Simmons looked amused. "Yes."

"Yes we have to, or?"

"Both. This Vault is fully-functioning as of tonight. As such, in the event of a hostile nuclear launch, it will be sealed to protect everyone inside. Currently, that includes you two, and the rest of your team. These forms help ensure your safety in the event that the US is attacked while you are here with us."

The twins stood silently as this information sunk in. Did the room just get a little colder?

Continuing her pre-rehearsed explanation, Dr. Simmons went on, "Normally, Vault-Tec charges a premium for this kind of 'last-minute' enrollment - we don't even have time for the standard psych evaluations -, but since you've agreed to help us at such short notice, there will be no charge. And upon your departure tomorrow morning, your files will be destroyed to protect your privacy. Unless, that is, you wish to join the roster for Vault 69 permanently?"

"Sure!" Jeremy piped up from the other side of the room. "Sixty-nine forever, right?"


	5. Setting the Stage

After half a tree's worth of forms had been signed and filed, Dr. Simmons led the group to the elevators at the end of the Atrium. It was a tight squeeze fitting all eight of them in there. What it would be like trying to get several hundred people down into the Vault for the concert, never mind the same number of exhausted, frightened people in the event of a nuclear strike, was anybody's guess. The elevator had no buttons, since there were only two possible destinations; the Atrium at ground level and the Vault several hundred feet below.

"Is this the only elevator down to the Vault?" Tegan asked Dr. Simmons once the elevator started moving. "It might take a while to get all our equipment down here." About three elevators' full, she reckoned.

"No need to worry, there's a cargo lift beneath the gangway in the Atrium. It's big enough to carry your tour bus, so unless your bus has a cargo hold equipped with a matter compression field, everything should fit in one go!" Simmons laughed at her own joke. "Just a little science humour for you there!" She beamed at various members of the group, who smiled back politely.

" **Haha! I get it!** " Rob boomed at maximum volume. Sara, who had been standing next to Rob at the back, wriggled through to the front and latched herself onto Tegan before anyone else could react.

"That's an interesting response from your Protectron there." Simmons remarked.

"Yeah, the bus got struck by lightning while he was on charge. He tries to join in with people's conversations sometimes." Sara replied.

"Oh. Thats _very_  interesting... " Simmons said, just as the elevator reached its destination. The doors that opened were on the opposite side to the ones they'd come in through, so they had to wait while Rob did a twelve-point 180-degree turn to get out.

The elevator shaft was at one end of what looked like a huge canteen. Rows and rows of tables had been folded up and pushed to the sides to make room for the audience. At the far end was a modest stage, upon which their sound equipment was already being assembled. On all sides there were white cinderblock walls, with three levels of railed walkways built into the sides. The smell of drying paint still clung to the air, despite the nuclear-grade air filtration units embedded in the corrugated metal ceiling.

"Finally, I get to live out my high school fantasy..." Sara stated as the group made their way over to the stage.

"Do I want to know where this is going?" Tegan asked.

"Performing on stage, in the cafeteria, in the middle of lunch break."

"You think this looks like a school? I was thinking it looked more like a prison block." Jeremy remarked.

"More to the point," Tegan interjected, " _That_ was your fantasy in high school? Playing guitar during lunch hour?" She eyed Sara incredulously. "Not Madison Square Garden, not on the main stage at Glastonbury..." She trailed off.

"What was yours?" Sara asked, attempting to change the subject.

"It had nothing to do with music." Tegan shrugged. "I wanted to live in a cabin in the mountains with a St. Bernard."

"Well," Sara smirked, "It looks like one of us is going to be able to live out their fantasy tonight, and it won't be _you,_ so _..._ "

"That's what she said." Said Jeremy said said.

As the group reached the stage they were greeted by a friendly face.

"Hey guys!" Emy beamed at them from atop a ladder. "What took you so long?"

Emy had arrived at around the same time as them, but as a fully-fledged Vault Resident back in Montreal, she had been able to skip the bureaucracy everyone else had been subjected to, and begin setting the stage (Oh my god, that's the title of the chapter! I _know_ , thank you for noticing!).

"Sara held us up because she kept talking about all the weapons she could be hiding." Tegan informed her. "Like, three separate guards frisked her, and each time she was like "You could have missed something!", so we had to wait for her."

"Exactly none of that is true." Sara clarified. "Although, the metal detector didn't pick up the change in my pocket, so I probably could have brought something dangerous in if I wanted to. But I didn't."

"That sounded really convincing, Sara." Jeremy said.

"You can frisk me if you want." Sara replied.

" _I'll_ frisk you, Sara." Emy winked.

"I am _programmed_ to perform **full-body security searches**." Rob chimed in, and the group erupted in laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments welcome, guys! Let me know if there's anything you want me to add to the story. I'm going to have Supermutants in this fic, even though they don't exist until way after this story is set, because I think they're a valuable and interesting part of the fallout universe, and I'm the boss.


End file.
